


Morning Light

by Cantabo



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, I'm Not Sorry Victor Hugo, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Shower Sex, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:45:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7239724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantabo/pseuds/Cantabo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is not a morning person by any means. Grantaire makes a very persuasive argument to change his mind.</p>
<p>Shameless fluff on my part (I'm still not sorry, Victor Hugo).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Light

**Author's Note:**

> I still have no idea as to what the fuck possessed me to write this, but nonetheless, enjoy some fluffy smutty E/R.

Mornings are an uninhibited _beast_.

When they had first gotten together, Enjolras had honestly expected to be up before Grantaire. He expected to be able to pry him into consciousness with soft kisses and whispers in his ear and morning blowjobs. He expected lazy mornings of cuddling in bed after waking up together and making each other breakfast.

This was not the case.

Grantaire is one of those rare, monstrous creatures that is awake before 9 a.m. and Enjolras _does not understand_. Even now, after they’ve been living together for almost a year, it continues to confound Enjolras.

It feels like Enjolras has just shut his eyes for the night when there’s a hand running up his back, gentle and prying him from the tempestuous mistress of sleep. He groans and shifts away from it, trying desperately to fall back asleep because _damn it R it’s Saturday_.

“Shut up you big baby, it’s after noon,” Grantaire says soothingly, but his hands find their way to Enjolras’ back and rub soothingly. Enjolras would be lying if he said that is was unpleasant.

Enjolras moans and flaps a hand out, part of him trying to shoo Grantaire away while also trying to pull him closer. The hands leave his back, and Enjolras feels the warm, fuzzy grips of sleep strengthening their hold on him.

Lips fall gently on his neck. Enjolras can’t help but moan softly and bare his neck to Grantaire, who is shamelessly abusing Enjolras’ weak spot as a means to devious ends. Enjolras is, in the muted sleepy state he is currently in, impressed by the tactics that his boyfriend is pulling in order to wake him up. He usually just turns the coffee pot on and starts cooking and lets the smell wake up Enjolras.

“Today we’re going to help Eponine move, don’t you remember? We’re already an hour late,” Grantaire whispers into Enjolras’ neck. And _damn him_ for using such a tone of voice in such a location on his body. How can he discuss such irritatingly awful things while he licks a stripe up that one place that always makes Enjolras keen.

“Courfeyrac can do it,” Enjolras mutters, shoving the heel of his hand over his eyes.

“No, love. Courf is out of town. It has to be us. Combeferre and Eponine are waiting on us. You wouldn’t want to let down Combeferre, would you?” Grantaire says, using such a quiet and intimate voice to emotionally blackmail the shit out of Enjolras. If he wasn’t so fucking exhausted, he’d be sitting down in Grantaire’s lap and trying to fuck him within an inch of his life, because this rare side of Grantaire is undeniably hot.

“I hate you,” Enjolras mutters, but he removes his hand away from his eyes to blearily blink at Grantaire. His boyfriend is, of course, already dressed, and looking at him like he’s a small child.

“No, you don’t,” Grantaire says, producing a cup of coffee out of nowhere. Enjolras can feel himself smile as he slowly sits up, making grabbing motions towards the coffee.

“No, I don’t,” Enjolras says as he takes the coffee from Enjolras and sips it. Grantaire presses a kiss to his forehead as he gets up, and there’s a sound of clattering from the kitchen as Grantaire most likely tries to start breakfast. Enjolras takes a minute to finish the cup of coffee, setting it on the table by the bed.

“Okay, you can either help me make breakfast, or you can get in the shower. You must pick one,” Grantaire says as he strides back into the room. He’s wearing old clothes, most likely because today will just be filled with Eponine changing her mind about where they should put down all of her shit in Combeferre’s apartment and Combeferre trying to help by giving instructions. Enjolras knows that they will all eventually get frustrated and call Bahorel and Feuilly, who used to work as movers and actually know what the fuck they’re doing.

The shower sounds like a lot of standing for being awake so early, but they both know that Enjolras is a terrible cook. Grantaire likes to joke that if Enjolras tried hard enough he could burn water. Everyone likes that joke except for Enjolras (even if there’s some truth to it).

“Shower,” Enjolras mutters, hauling himself out of bed. Grantaire nods and takes Enjolras’ hand, guiding him into the bathroom, where he turn the knobs in the shower on and leaves him to undress with a kiss on the cheek.

He stands in the bathroom for five minutes, staring at the water and wondering if he stands there long enough Grantaire will eventually come get in the shower with him.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Hey you, almost done?” Grantaire asks. Enjolras makes a noncommittal noise, hoping that maybe Grantaire will come in.

It’s like he’s having a lucky day, because Grantaire walks in and immediately deflates, like he’s not even surprised.

“Damn it,” He mutters, but yanks his shirt off anyways. There’s a smile playing at his lips though, so Enjolras knows he’s not actually mad about showering with him.

Getting in the shower with R right behind him is so much more motivating. Grantaire is smiling as he pulls the shower curtain closed, getting up behind Enjolras and latching his lips to Enjolras’ neck.

“I am onto you, sneaky son of a bitch,” Grantaire says, but his hand is reaching around to splay over Enjolras’ lower belly, a warm, hot presence that makes him half hard. Grantaire chuckles into the crook of Enjolras’ neck but makes no move to let gravity take control and let his hand slide lower, where Enjolras really wants it. Miles away from where he needs R’s hand.

“I don’t want you on me, I want you in me,” Enjolras mutters, glaring at the ceiling when Grantaire sucks in a breath but still doesn’t move his hand. He sinks his teeth into Enjolras’ neck, enough to make him moan, before licking the sting away gently.

“Maybe I would be if you had gotten up earlier,” Grantaire says, and he’s turning Enjolras around to face him, pushing the wet hair out of his eyes to press their foreheads together.

“I hate you,” Enjolras moans, even when Grantaire takes them both in his hand, jerking them slowly as water hits Enjolras’ back in warm currents. Everything is so overwhelming. The sound of the water is loud in his ears. The shower beating down on his back and making his skin sensitive and Grantaire knows it. He can play all the strings of Enjolras’ body like an expert. He knows exactly where to press and poke that makes Enjolras shatter into a million pieces.

“No, you don’t,” Grantaire says, his grip on them loose and teasing, keeping a rhythm so steady Enjolras can feel his brain leaking out of his ears. It’s too much, everything just building up like he’s Icarus hurtling towards the sun.

“No, I don’t,” Enjolras agrees. It’s their mantra, what they say to each other so many times a day Enjolras thinks about getting it tattooed all over his body it’s such a part of his day. His admission must be what Grantaire was looking for, because suddenly he’s ravenous against Enjolras, tightening his grip and latching his mouth back onto Enjolras’ neck. He moans when Grantaire bites down, because, damn him, R knows it’s a weak spot and he’s just shamelessly abusing it.

Grantaire is definitely close. Closer than Enjolras is, anyways. He’s moaning around the serious love bite he’s making on Enjolras’ neck. Enjolras snakes a hand up to grab onto R’s hair and pulls, and that just does him in.

Grantaire comes against Enjolras’ stomach with a shout, jerking himself through his orgasm. Enjolras keeps a hand in his hair, grabbing his ass as R shakes in his hold.

Grantaire leans against Enjolras for a second, head on Enjolras’ neck. Enjolras holds him and tries to ignore the raging hard on he’s still got. R must snap back to himself, because suddenly he’s sinking down to his knees, looking up at Enjolras as he does so, as if doesn’t look like every one of Enjolras’ fantasies come to life.

Grantaire takes him into his mouth, immediately sinking down on him so that his nose touches Enjolras’ skin. It’s so much, too much, not enough, not nearly enough. Enjolras moans as Grantaire sucks him like a dying man, tongue running under the head and searching out every weakness Enjolras has. He sucks Enjolras off like his life depends on it, like he needs to do it to survive. It’s one of the millions of things Enjolras loves about Grantaire.

Enjolras is close, so close, and he loves Grantaire even more because he knows that, and his hand snakes up to press on Enjolras’ hole, not penetrating, just playing with the rim, because _damn him_ he knows that Enjolras is so sensitive there, and he’s coming like he’s been hit by a freight train, every single millimeter of his body alive and on fire. He’s fairly sure he shouts as he comes, but he can’t be sure, because everything is just rushing in his ear and he’s holding onto Grantaire’s shoulder like his life depends on it.

Grantaire stands back up slowly, running his hands up and down Enjolras’ back, lightly grabbing his ass every once and awhile until he comes back to himself. Grantaire’s hands eventually work themselves into Enjolras’ hair, and he can’t help but sigh at his touch.

“I love you. Sorry I made us so late,” Enjolras sighed, arms wrapping around Grantaire’s neck.

“I love you too… Also, I may have a surprise for you,” Grantaire says as he works shampoo through Enjolras’ hair. It’s the shampoo they share, and it smells strongly of coconuts. Enjolras feels his shoulders relax as he thinks for a second how different R is since they’ve started dating. Two years ago he was such a hollow shell, drunk and angry at everything, but through many trial and error incidents and a lot of encouragement Grantaire is almost always sober. It makes Enjolras so happy that he was able to help Grantaire push past all of the demons in his life and into a place where he’s happy to wake up in the morning.

“A surprise?” Enjolras questions, leaning back to stick his head under the water.

“It may only actually be ten o’clock,” Grantaire says, leaning his head down to laugh. Enjolras spares him a glare, pinching him half heartedly on the arm. It’s got no sting to it, but Grantaire pulls away to fake a look of hurt anyways.

“I hate you,” Enjolras says, but there’s a smile on his face.

“No you don’t.” Grantaire says, pressing their foreheads together.

“No, I don’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback always appreciated. :)


End file.
